


Lie-Detector

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Number The Stars [4]
Category: Numb3rs, Stargate Atlantis, Thoughtcrimes (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: Thoughtcrimes/any, Freya McAllister, her telepathy also gave her the ability to become a human lie detector, and unlike the mind-reading it couldn't be blocked. When Freya steps onto Atlantis, her gift changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie-Detector

When Brendan Dean as John Sheppard first set foot on Atlantis, it lit up for him, responding to magic singing in his blood.  
  
When Freya stepped onto Atlantis, her telepathy went haywire. One moment she was taking in the beauty and wonder of the alien city, the next her mind was pinging with constant input. _Lie. Truth. Lie. Lie._  
  
Every time someone spoke to Brendan, called him Sheppard or John, and he responded, it pinged in her head. _Lie._  
  
McKay's impatience was truth. Sumner's frustration with Brendan was truth. But there were so many other little lies. That all the marines respected Sumner. When Zelenka smiled politely at McKay.  
  
The pings weren't as loud as actual mental voices, but she couldn't stop them. She only sensed them if she was looking at someone and caught them in the act of either lying or being truthful, but there were people everywhere, and –  
  
No. She couldn't do this. Not again.  
  
She clapped her hands over her ears as the world began to spin around her. She needed something. A book. She fumbled in her jacket pocket for the little book she always kept with her no matter what, no matter how confident she'd been about her control of her telepathy.  
  
Tiny bibles were the easiest to come by. The King James Version required the most concentration because it was written in such old-fashioned language. She flipped to the first page.  
  
But it wasn't working.  
  
It wasn't working.  
  
It wasn't working.  
  
She screamed.  
  
Everyone lied. All the time. About everything. Even small things, things that shouldn't have mattered. A look or a glance or a smile, a nod or obeying an order.  
  
And then a single bright beam of truth pierced the battering black pings of lies. Arms closed around her, pulled her close to solid warmth, and Brendan whispered,  
  
"Freya."


End file.
